


An Canne

by Cân Cennau (cancennau)



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Abstract, Attempted Exile, Attempted Murder, Attribution's Share, Canon Rewrite, Cantair Set, M/M, Moonshadow - Freeform, Morrowind, Other, Plotting, Realm of the All-Maker, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Skyrim References, Spiral Skein, The Calling (DS9 Prophecy and Change), occurs around 4E 0 or 4E 1, thanks source material, this is fairly artsy-fartsy in places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 00:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14580813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cancennau/pseuds/C%C3%A2n%20Cennau
Summary: The Tribunal was gone, the Lord High Councillor was dead, and Baar Dau was falling into the City of Vivec. Councillor Elim Garak now faces plots, riots and the brink of civil war. Could Oblivion hold the answers?A Morrowind-verse rewrite of “The Calling”.





	An Canne

Elim set a cup of hackle-ho tea carefully away from the stacks of tomes that dotted Kelas’ desk.

“Studying Daedric realms again, Kelas?”

“I’m still trying to make sense of them. So many contradictions...” Kelas leant back from the Black Book they were studying, and stretched.“How goes your Ingenium speech for the Great Houses?”

“Not well.” he sighed. “We face Baar Dau falling into Vivec, and here I am advocating for us not to stop it.”

“We want to stop it with something that  _ doesn’t  _ need people’s souls.” Kelas pressed a reassuring kiss to his lips. “Remember that.”

“I’ll try.”

* * *

The speech to the Great Houses didn't go well.

“It was never going to go well,” Kelas soothed, as they escaped the riot through the back of the Temple Canton. “You knew that. House Telvanni were always going to cause trouble.”

“It’s not just that.” Elim sighed. “I couldn’t give the speech I wanted. I couldn’t be inspiring-”

“I doubt anyone could, given the atmosphere.”

“-I nearly suggested we needed to ask the Empire for help. Which we do, but-”

Kelas lay a warm hand on his arm. “Don’t dwell on it. Let’s meet with Pythas, and discuss it then.”

* * *

“We need to contact the Empire.”

Pythas carefully set down his drink. “I didn’t realise we were open to inviting colonial powers around for tea, Elim.”

“We need new ideas, old friend, support structures-”

“But the  _ Empire _ _?_ ”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if there was another way. But we are  _ dying _ . Look at the idea of the Ingenium – a machine to run on the souls of our dead...”

“And you agree, Limor? Even after Ald’ruhn, House Redoran’s fall?”

“I must.” Limor murmured. “The Ingenium is a mistake.”

Pythas sighed. “Fine. Elim, you’ll be going to Cyrodiil. Let’s plan your entry...”

* * *

Kelas helped Elim pack for his trip, quiet but radiating concern like Stendarr’s beacon. Elim would be undergoing facial reshaping tomorrow to make him man rather than mer, but Kelas wouldn’t be allowed to accompany him there.

For Elim, a past meeting with Kel from the Skaal kept infiltrating his thoughts – vague remembrances, confusion, the All-Maker, choosing your own death.

Was this where he would die?

Was this his choosing of death?

That night, he held Kelas close as they made love, trying to cling to the feeling of oneness, yet feeling it slip through his fingers once more.

* * *

Surgeon Mindur Timot wasn’t available, but Galathil Timot was, and she was summarily summoned from Skyrim to the shores of Morrowind. Elim stepped out of the medicine room into the heart of the Imperial city, now the half-Breton tailor Emile Tranger.

Perhaps if Elim had been less anxious, he would’ve been more suspicious of the carriage driver, Mila.

Had he not been in a depressive episode, perhaps he would’ve been shocked that he could speak Cyrodiilic flawlessly, rather his usual patchy grasp of the language.

Perhaps then he would’ve been less surprised when the bottom of the world fell out.

* * *

The world reshaped and reformed around him, and he was Lost. His body disintegrated, leaving only a beaming light, and he Watched as the world whirled and darkened around him. The swirls of magicka darkened and swarmed, creating the rocky stone floor and the red-black smoke of Boethiah’s Realm.

The smoke formed shadows and shapes, eventually a picture. Elim saw himself leave Pythas’ office with Kelas, Pythas and Limor watching them go, then... conversation. Thoughts and meanings merged in his head, but his closest friend’s betrayal is clear.

“ _ Arrange it... so that Elim will go to Oblivion and never return.” _

* * *

The world reformed again, this time into shadowy quiet. Elim lay in the middle of an eight-spoked wheel, spider threads spinning above him. He got up, dizzy and weak, unsure of what was real.

“Does it matter what’s real?” A voice shattered the quiet, and Elim started.

“Palandine?

“If you wish to leave Mephala’s Web,” the voice murmured. “you’ll need to learn to live with both, my little  _ clannfear  _ .”

Elim turned, and saw light collecting between the sixth and seventh spokes of the wheel. He followed it, and the light led him off the precipice of the wheel, down, down...

* * *

The heady perfume awoke Elim, and this time he knew exactly where he was – Moonshadow. Azura’s silver cities glimmered in the dusky twilight, spirits mingled in groups around the roses, and the light he had followed had reshaped not into Palandine, but into Kel.

“Hear what they’re saying, Elim.” Kel smiled.

Elim looked across the garden, and saw a thin man, not Dunmer, but instantly recognizeable. Julian turned, and waved, and Elim felt his heart soar. But as he approached, the garden darkened, Julian left him, and Elim felt the claustrophobia as he was dragged downwards into the earth.

* * *

“Elim.”

The earth beneath his hands was warm and soft, the orchids pale and delicate, and Elim looked up to see his father, Tolan, dressed in ceremonial Skaal robes.

“Father.” he breathed. “I’ve missed you.”

Tolan appraised him, kindly, as he began to fade. Around them came a chain of people, all dead but somehow... dignified. Maladek, Barkan, Damar, his half-Argonian friend Ziyal, Tain. Mila, Palandine...

“If they understand the oneness of the land, of us...” Tolan’s voice was barely perceptible. “The tribes can come together...”

Tolan laid a hand on his head, and the world exploded into bright colour.

* * *

Elim awoke in a strange house, in his own body, with Kelas leaning over him. He touched Kelas’ cheek, feeling the spark of oneness as Kelas held it close.

“Kelas.” Elim murmured. Kelas smiled, kissing his palm.

“What happened, Elim?” they asked. “Pythas said you had died in Cyrodiil.”

“I was put in Oblivion.” Elim sat up. “What of the Ingenium?”

“Council voted in favour of it, in your absence.”

“Damn. Then there is no time - you must get me to the Skaal.”

“The Skaal?”

“Yes.” Elim rose to his feet. “We need their help - we have work to do...”

 


End file.
